


The Joy of Books

by likebunnies



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Bookstores, Established Relationship, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Shameless Smut, Smut in a bookstore, ichabbie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 22:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11450097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebunnies/pseuds/likebunnies
Summary: Crane and Abbie are alone in a closed bookstore. The combination of Crane, Abbie, and books can be very sexy. Or at least in my world they are.





	The Joy of Books

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present for Tumblr's noisywastelandphilosopher. Enjoy that green chair!

“It was thoughtful of Miss Laura to allow us access to her bookstore after she had to depart for a family emergency,” Crane said, his fingers brushing over the spines of the books on the shelf in front of him. “I really do need to find this bit of information this evening.”

Abbie smiled at him and continued looking at the many assorted books in front of her, some old and worn out and some new with stiff spines. Even with the internet, there were some things Crane preferred to do the old-fashioned way. Looking through books was one of those things. 

She was just thankful nothing that happened in their shared bedroom was old-fashioned. No, nothing at all. This made her smile even more as she glanced at him, his face in serious study mode. She was so satisfied with the path their relationship had gone down and now wondered why it had taken them so long to get to this point. She felt a heat rise to her cheeks as she thought about the things that happened just this morning and then the heat centered itself lower. She wished those thoughts away, saving them for later when they were home again. Or at least in the archives. She couldn't get enough of him. 

As Crane continued perusing the books on Medieval poetry, Abbie wandered around more. Laura had given them the spare key so they could lock up when they Crane had found what he wanted. Thankfully, she also closed the store before rushing to the ER to see what happened this time to her eldest son at his soccer summer camp. This was good because Abbie was 100% sure she didn't want to deal with customers with their questions about books... but perhaps Crane could have done it and done it well. Or at least he could have ranted at them when they got something wrong. 

She made her way to one of the darker corners of the store and looked through the heavily discounted used books piled high on a table. It was the normal stuff. Lots of used The Da Vinci Codes. Even more used and unwanted Fifty Shades of Greys. 

Then she stumbled upon something she hadn't seen for a years. A old hardback copy of the original 1970s version of The Joy of Sex. She pulled it from the bottom of the pile of books and grinned at the pictures as she flipped through it, kind of thankful she missed out on the '70s. She closed it again and went to show Crane this piece of history. 

“This is funny. I remember finding one of these hidden away in one of the foster homes I stayed in when I was a teen. I was snooping where I shouldn't have been and found this. It's ghastly. Look at all that body hair,” Abbie said, turning to a few of the illustrations. 

“I see nothing wrong with any of these men... or women, for that matter,” Crane said with a sniff, self-consciously adjusting his neckline. 

Abbie smiled at him reassuringly. “Oh, Crane. There's nothing wrong with your chest hair. I kind of like it. It's manly and it suits you. But look at this! This guy looks like he hasn't bathed in a year!”

“You like my chest hair?” Crane said, his fingers still on the deep V on the front of his shirt. He was ignoring the hirsute man in the book and staring straight at Abbie. 

“Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?” 

“I've seen enough modern day, er, entertainment–” 

“Do you mean internet porn?” Abbie asked, raising a curious eyebrow at him. She didn't have to ask. She knew how browser histories worked back when he didn't. He ignored her question. 

“I've seen enough entertainment to know that current styles dictate that people... men... shave and wax and pluck everything,” he said. He rolled his eyes before adding, “Manscaping.”

“Ichabod Crane, have I ever done or said anything that made you think I didn't love you exactly the way you are?” Abbie asked, putting the book down and stepping closer to him. She playfully stroked his chest through the fabric of his shirt. 

“No.”

“After that one time, I never attempted to change you out of your 18th century fashions. I didn't even ask you to cut your hair. I have never suggested you get a pair of Nikes instead of those cumbersome boots. I let you wear that nightshirt to bed instead of a comfortable pair of boxers and a T-shirt. Crane, I want you the way you are,” Abbie said, staring into his eyes. 

“And I want you the way you are, Lieutenant. My Abbie – fierce when you have to be but soft and loving when you're with me. Desirous but not needy. So perfect,” he said, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“I do kind of miss the laced look your shirts used to have. Very pirate-y,” Abbie said, her fingers now playing with his chest hair and teasingly pushing his shirt open farther. 

“I– I can have one made,” he said, distracted by what she was doing. 

“In blue? You look so beautiful in blue. Your eyes...”

“Whatever you desire,” he said, putting his hands on her face and pulling her into a kiss. 

“I desire this,” she said when the kiss was over. Her hands moved down his chest and across his stomach and then lower, to the waistband of his breeches. “Have you ever done it in a bookstore?”

“The archives... but you know about that. You were there. But no, not at any booksellers. Not even in a library,” he said, looking around as if someone might walk in on them at any moment. 

“Don't worry. Laura said she would call if she could make it back this evening. Otherwise, the place is all ours,” Abbie said, licking her lips and turning on all her charms. She knew she could have him anywhere. She knew she could have him at anytime. She knew she could have him now. 

She kissed him where his shirt didn't cover his skin, brushing her tongue softly along his neck and dipping it in his suprasternal notch, savoring the salty taste of him. It had been a hot summer day and they had spent most of it outside. His brown coat had already been abandoned earlier, when it got too hot. Abbie untucked his shirt, fighting with all the fabric that was hidden in his breeches. He pulled it over his head and let it puddle on the floor. 

Abbie let her tongue explore more, her fingertips lightly caressing the hair on his chest. Such a simple thing that started this all. She moved from his neck down his chest, grazing her lips across his nipples and listening to him make a slightly obscene growl deep in his throat. Sinking to her knees, her tongue now tracing the trail of dark hair that led her where she wanted to go, she deftly unfastened all the buttons on his breeches and set him free from them. 

She loved Crane's dick. She loved the soft mewling sound Crane made when she pulled him into her mouth. She loved the fact that just a few months ago, she had given him the first blow job he had in centuries. And she loved it even more when he told her it was the best one he ever had. 

Her tongue danced around his shaft, teasing and playing with him. He softly placed his hands on her head and leaned back against the bookshelf, moaning, “Oh, Abbie...”

Wrapping her lips around him, she moved up and down his length, her tongue flicking out at the head when she pulled away. Abbie enjoyed the feel of his body as he began to quiver ever so slightly when she grazed her manicured nails gently over his balls. She enjoyed the taste of him. She loved the smell of him, so male underneath the scent of his hand-milled lavender soap. 

“Abbie... Abbie,” he mumbled, pushing her away. “I don't want this to end this way.”

The both looked around and spotted a large, worn green leather armchair tucked away in a corner, books piled up next to it. Crane stumbled over to it, breeches still around his knees and boots still on his feet and he settled on the chair, stroking himself with one hand and reaching for Abbie with the other.

“Hold on,” she said, racing to get out of her shoes and jeans, praying she was right about Laura not returning soon. Once she was free of her clothes, she joined him on the chair, straddling him and sinking down on his cock. She moved rhythmically on him, moving up and down, letting him in as far as he could go and then nearly releasing him from her body. She threw her head back in pleasure as he touched her clit, stroking her with the perfect amount of pressure. He knew her so well. He knew what she liked as much as she knew what he liked. As if this was always meant to be. 

She put her hands on his shoulders for more leverage and moved faster, his fingers keeping pace with her. He never closed his eyes. He kept watching her and she loved his eyes on her. Loved the admiration she could see in them. The joy. 

His hips bucked up from the chair as he came hard, releasing everything into her and calling out her name. His feet slid to the side, knocking over the stack of books that had been beside the chair and they both laughed at the ruckus. Crane didn't stop focusing on her clit until she came, too, gasping at the wonderful sensation of coming while his girth was still filling her. 

“I'm afraid we have befouled Miss Laura's bookstore,” Crane said, finally catching his breath. 

“Nothing we can't clean up,” Abbie said with a shrug, before kissing him. “Maybe someday you'll own your own bookstore, Professor Crane.”

“For now the archives are enough,” Crane said, looking around at the shelves and shelves of books, especially the old and well-loved ones. She knew he was considering the idea. He could spend the day with his favorite books, learning everything he ever wanted... and also spend the day with horrible customers demanding things from him. He must have thought the same thing at the same time because he shook himself out of his reverie and kissed her back. “Yes, truly, the archives... and you, Lieutenant... are enough for any man.” 

The End


End file.
